


Iron

by NiriKeehan



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Armitage Hux Backstory, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Lives, Armitage Hux is a Jerk, Ben Solo is... dead?, F/M, First Order Backstory, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Gingerbraids, He's my other fav so we'll see, I'm diving headfirst into this obscure pairing and no one can stop me, I'm going to end up entirely rewriting the events of TROS by the time this is over aren't I, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kaydel Ko Connix backstory, Mind Games, Political Debates, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Rare Pairings, Spy Armitage Hux, Suspicions, but for which side?, but is he?, will I regret my verb tense choices?, you get a backstory and you get a backstory!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiriKeehan/pseuds/NiriKeehan
Summary: A long time ago, Kaydel Ko Connix met an up-and-coming First Order officer named Armitage Hux. Many years later, with the First Order in tatters, they meet again as members of the Resistance. As they work together to restore galactic peace, Kaydel wonders: can Hux be trusted? Was the connection to him she felt genuine? Has he truly shredded his former ideology, or is something darker hiding beneath the surface?
Relationships: Kaydel Ko Connix/Armitage Hux
Comments: 38
Kudos: 23





	1. Prelude

She’s never told anyone, but she’s met him.

Years ago, before the words “The First Order” made the galaxy quake in fear, they met. He wasn’t a general then. She doesn’t recall if he had a rank at the time at all, although she supposes he must have. She only remembers the crowd, the chanting of human men and women, the harsh language of the holo-signs they hoisted above their heads. _END THE CHAOS! BRING ON THE ORDER! THE NEW REPUBLIC LIES! ALIENS GO HOME!_

It was the last one that sent Kaydel’s blood boiling. She was nineteen years old, in her second year at university on Coruscant. Her best friends were a Twi’lek, a Wookiee, and a Bothan. She’d been flirting with a handsome Omwati for half a year. She was enrolled in an anthropology course on Galactic Cultures that semester, and the tyranny that creeped from the increased presence on campus of protesters armed with hate unnerved her to no end.

More than once Kaydel had complained to the administration. “My friends don’t feel safe,” she insisted to a slack-faced receptionist, “when those black and red maniacs are around.” She received only platitudes, a reminder of the university’s free speech policy, and a promise that “the matter would be looked into.” But the First Order protests only seemed to increase in number.

At first Kaydel tried to ignore them, sidestepping the gatherings with a scowl on her way to class. Then, after a particularly heated debate in her Intergalactic Relations course about how to deal with systems which refused to adhere to the Corellia Conventions, she found herself slowing as she entered the quad. Around a collapsible platform set up on the artificial grass, a new rally was beginning.

 _Understand where the other side is coming from_ , her professor had intoned when the discussion devolved into anarchy. _You’ll be able to leverage that to your advantage._ So she stood and watched.

A pimply-faced senior took the stage, flanked on either side by black banners. A red circle with spikes extending toward its center adorned the middle. Something about it reminded Kaydel of the logo she’d seen in history texts, the one the Empire used. She shivered in the cool autumn breeze.

“Welcome,” the acne-ridden senior spoke into a hovering micro-drone. His voice echoed throughout the quad. “On behalf of UC’s Young Order chapter, I’d like to introduce you to today’s guest — the very esteemed Armitage Hux.”

A human man strode out, clad in black garb reminiscent of the Empire’s military uniforms. He was older than the college kids surrounding her, perhaps in his late twenties. Kaydel felt something cold grip her heart. He had a clean-shaven face and slicked back hair that shone copper in the sun. He studied the crowd with light eyes that reminded her of the clear blue-green skies back on Dulathia. His gaze scraped over hers for an instant, and she felt more nervous than before.

This Armitage Hux launched into a speech that was cold, calculating, and absolutely mesmerizing. The passion for his subject shone on his pallid face. It was evident in every hand gesture he used for emphasis, every perfectly timed pause. The bits of the crowd that had been murmuring around her quieted. In perfect silence, Hux spoke of a glorious future that was just around the corner for the galaxy, if they would only reach out and take it.

He terrified Kaydel.

When his speech ended, it was like a spell had broken. She blinked once, twice, trying to come back to her senses. Around her, students were cheering, whooping, extending their arms in some sort of salute. For the first time, Kaydel felt worried about what this First Order might do, given the chance.

As the crowd dispersed, she tried to slink away, but with the crowd stumbling every which way, she became boxed in. She ducked under a tree and waited, trying to catch her breath. A few minutes later, when the crowd thinned and she felt like her wits had returned to her, she squared her shoulders and set off. She bumped into someone she hadn’t seen coming, a man walking at a swift clip in a black coat that reached his boots. Kaydel started to apologize, looked into his face, and froze.

It was _him._

“Oh, that’s all right,” he said, with the same clipped tone he’d used to deliver the speech, though more distracted. He dug through a lapel pocket, searching for something.

Kaydel looked down. At their feet sat a small datapad. She grabbed it and held it up. “Looking for this?”

Hux seemed flummoxed. “Yes, actually. Thank you.”

As he took the datapad from her, she caught a glimpse of a numbered list on the screen: talking points from his oration. Somehow, the knowledge that he hadn’t conjured the incantation from thin air steeled her. “That was some speech you gave.” She sounded bolder than she felt.

Hux’s eyes brightened. “Did you like it?”

He was tempering his voice, but he sounded hopeful. He sought approval, and couldn’t be as villainous as he’d made himself seem.

Kaydel’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Hated it.”

Straightening, Hux frowned and tucked the datapad away. “Oh, really? What part didn’t you like?”

Kaydel snorted. “How much time do you have?” She felt braver, knowing Armitage Hux was just a man. It felt good to push back against the source of her ire all these months. Whatever his role in the First Order, she wanted him to know there were more people in the galaxy than his adoring crowds.

Hux tugged at the sleeve of his coat and glanced at his wrist chrono. “A few hours, truth be told. My transport won’t be leaving for awhile yet.”

He had called her bluff. Kaydel felt off-kilter, like she was inching out on a branch that grew thinner and thinner, without knowing when it might snap. But backing off felt like admitting defeat, so she tossed out at him coolly, “Buy me a drink, and we’ll talk.”

Hux watched her with those piercing eyes of his, and she worried he could see right through her. Her fingertips tingled as she waited. At last, he inhaled deeply and said, “All right.”

The afternoon melted into twilight as they walked to the edge of campus. With the sun dipped behind the tall buildings around them, the wind was colder than ever, but Kaydel felt a heat radiating inside her that she couldn’t explain. Despite being much taller, Armitage Hux kept stride with her, but didn’t offer anything in the way of smalltalk. Her mind reeled, and with each step she grew more panicked. She really _was_ about to go drinking with a bona fide member of the First Order.

She halted on the street corner. “This whole block has every kind of bar you could possibly want.” She gestured toward the flashing neon signs, where crowds of students were already lining up outside the pubs and cantinas.

Hux followed her gaze. His lip curled in distaste. “I don’t suppose you know a place more… _discreet_?”

She paused, unsure what exactly he meant by that, but it occurred to her she didn’t want to be seen in any of her usual haunts, either. What if her friends saw her, and wanted to be introduced?

“Follow me,” Kaydel said, grabbing Hux by the arm and darting across the street. The hover-traffic was picking up for rush hour, and it was easy to shimmy between the grid-locked speeders even when the light was green.

Hux did as instructed, though stiffly and with a grimace that suggested he feared getting run down. “Not much of a city dweller, are you?” Kaydel asked when they reached the opposite sidewalk, amused despite herself.

Hux was trying to catch his breath. “No,” he said curtly. “I spend most of my time in space.”

This sounded both exciting and a little lonely to Kaydel, who had only lived on two planets her whole life. “I’d love to travel, once I’m out of school,” she said, the words spilling out of her mouth in a nervous rush, and she worried the tone made her sound vapid. “You know, see the galaxy for what it truly is.”

“I’m afraid you’ll be terribly disappointed,” Hux said, with a dry tone that made her gasp with surprised laughter. “I’m serious, the vast majority of systems out there are inhospitable rocks filled with nothing but— where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she said, as they turned down a block that steered them away from the university district entirely. She was feeling bolder the farther they got from her familiar orbit. She felt less like Kaydel Ko Connix, the Poli Sci and Intergalactic Relations double major, the scholarship student who made straight A’s and called her mother every week when she had the chance. She realized she could be someone different, someone who took _risks_ , someone who went to a _bar_ with an _older man_ — one with political views she abhorred, no less. For the first time in her life, she felt dangerous, and liked it.

The bar was several blocks away, plus three levels down, the farthest below the surface level of Coruscant that Kaydel had ever been. She’d discovered it one night when she and her freshman roommate had been feeling stir-crazy around finals time and wanted to do something risky. The bar itself wasn’t really _unsafe_ — you had to get at least ten levels down for that — but it was what they’d deemed “a proper dive,” all dark varnished wood and dim lighting and many walks of life crammed into every nook and cranny. It was certain to be full of all types of aliens, and that was exactly the kind of clientele she wanted to force Armitage Hux to experience.

The doors slid open for them, and Kaydel beckoned Hux inside. He was at once on guard, his already rigid posture gone ramrod straight. The bouncer was a Rodian, and barked out the request for IDs in an accent that Kaydel had no trouble parsing, but Hux clearly did. “Identification,” she repeated to him, mimicking his own posh accent.

“Oh,” he said, fumbling once more through the deep folds of his coat. His ident card was like nothing Kaydel had ever seen, black with red around the edge, his likeness scowling at the holo-camera. With a sick lurch, she realized the background bore the same spiked red circle she had seen on the banners at the rally. Just how connected with the First Order _was_ this guy?

The bouncer didn’t seem to know what to do with the ident card, either. He kept flipping it over and back again, but finally returned it and waved Hux through. He looked old enough to drink, and that was all that mattered.

Kaydel drifted to the back of the bar, past a billiard table crowded by Sullustans and Bimms, scooting by the jukebox where an Ithorian and a Mon Cal argued over what song to play next, and finally settled in an empty booth. The temperature had risen several degrees from outside, and although Kaydel was comfortable in her oversized sweater, Hux peeled off that great coat of his and took care to fold it before setting it next to him on his side of the booth. The barmaid was a Quarren, her long tentacles curled stylishly around her neck, and Hux seemed uncomfortable around her also. Even so, he managed to order a scotch for himself and a rum and soda for her without trouble. Finally, they were left alone, with nothing to do but watch each other.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said _discreet_ ,” Hux said at last.

“Oh really?” Kaydel asked sweetly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something… quieter.”

Balls clacked together on the billiard table, a cheer went up around some sports match broadcast on the holo-screens above the bar, and the jukebox played a remix of the Ewok Chorus’s victory celebration, an oldie made famous by the fall of the Empire some thirty years ago. The irony made Kaydel smile. “You should have been more specific.”

The barmaid returned with their drinks and a cocktail napkin for each. Hux took a stiff sip, as if downing medicine. Kaydel tasted her own, brought to her in a wide square glass, and frowned at the syrupy texture. She had forgotten the bartenders in this place poured the alcohol with a lead hand. She stirred the drink with its little straw, hoping to water it down with the melting ice.

“Indeed. A mistake I’ll remedy going forward.” Hux took another swallow, leaned back against the booth wall, and folded his hands on the table. “So. Tell me what was wrong with my speech.”

Something about the solemnity of the question made her burst out laughing. “Where do I start? The human supremacist nature of its very premise, the frankly worrisome invocation of the past glory of the Empire, or the fact that it made you sound like some kind of madman?”

A strange smirk crossed Hux’s face. “The last bit.”

“You can’t seriously believe the shit you were spewing,” Kaydel declared. This was precisely what had been bothering her the whole time: the utter maniacal conviction with which Hux had delivered his monologue.

“And why not?”

“ _Because_ ,” Kaydel said, her voice rising as the harmonies in the Ewok chorus swelled, “the Empire is dead, and no one wants it back.”

“Who said anything about the Empire?”

“ _You_ did, with all your talk of vanished glories and making the New Republic bow and whatnot.”

“You must have misunderstood me.” Hux took a prim sip from his glass. “That’s not what the First Order is about. Yes, invoking the imagery of the Empire is useful, given the history of its military might. But bringing back the Empire is not what I aim to do.”

He’d said _I,_ and not _we_. It was either a slip of the tongue, betraying the depth of his hubris, or… “Well, what is it you aim to do?”

Hux smiled. “Build something better. Naturally.”

“What’s wrong with the New Republic?”

He scoffed. “If I had to list everything, we’d be here all night.”

“Why not run for the Senate, then?” Kaydel countered. “Get involved in the political process. It’s there for a reason.”

He shot her a glance which suggested he found her incredibly naive. “I’d never qualify.”

“Why not?” Kaydel retorted. “Do you have a criminal record?”

He looked at her over the rim of his glass, and the way his eyes glinted made her shiver, despite the warmth of the bar. “Something like that.”

Kaydel worried at the tip of her straw with her teeth. “I don’t understand.”

“I suspected you wouldn’t.”

“Then explain it to me. You can’t be only half a criminal.”

“There are those of us in this galaxy who were born to a certain stock, let’s say.” Hux held the scotch up to the dim overhead light, studying the amber liquid. “We’ve been found tainted just by virtue of our lineage, while others are blessed in the eyes of the New Republic leadership. Or were, until recently.”

Kaydel struggled to comprehend his cryptic words. “You’re not a Jedi, are you?”

“Heavens, no.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Though I suppose I was thinking of them, just now. They’re a good example of a New Republic darling gone astray.”

It had been years since the destruction of Luke Skywalker’s Jedi academy, but Hux was right, the Jedi had fallen out of favor since then. It had sent shockwaves throughout the galaxy, that one of Skywalker’s own students could fall to the dark side right under his nose, causing the massacre that followed. And of course, when the culprit’s identity had been revealed — the son of the senator who had championed restarting the Jedi Order — the backlash against her and all Force users had been vicious.

“It wasn’t Senator Organa Solo’s fault, what happened there,” Kaydel said.

“I didn’t say it was her fault, specifically,” Hux said, tilting his head. “Though it’s natural to be defensive of her. You’re Alderaanian, aren’t you?”

Kaydel sat up straight, her mouth falling open. “How did you know?”

He nodded toward her. “The braids. The Alderaanian style is very distinctive.”

Kaydel’s fingers crept up to her blond hair, twisted into plaits that formed a crown around her head. She’d fastened a ribbon in there that morning, for extra flair. She felt a flush rise in her cheeks. “Most people don’t notice.”

“Yes, that’s what happens when an entire planet’s culture is wiped out,” Hux said softly. “But in any case, I’m not most people.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, and the small bar suddenly seemed immeasurably hot.

“I was born on Dulathia,” she blurted. “In a refugee camp. My mom’s from Alderaan. She was off world when the planet was destroyed. She lost everything. All she had were the clothes on her back and the little bit she had packed away in her suitcase.”

Hux’s face had softened; in a strange, surprising way, it seemed as if he understood. “And your father?”

Kaydel shrugged. “Never knew him. At first my mom told me she was pregnant when she left Alderaan, but I didn’t have to be very old to figure out the numbers on that one are way off.”

She looked down, a lump forming in her throat. The kindest possibility was that her mother had met a man in the Dulathian refugee camp and fallen in love, but if that were true, where was he now and why was it she refused to speak of him?

“It’s probably for the best,” Hux said. “Fathers like that are… difficult to deal with.”

Kaydel raised her head, angry at his matter-of-fact tone. “How would you know?”

He watched her again with those intense eyes. “I _know_.”

He wouldn’t elaborate more than that, and she couldn’t bring herself to push it any farther.

“Senator Organa Solo toured our camp when I was little. I remember meeting her,” Kaydel continued. “Just for a few minutes, but she talked to both me and my mom and promised us she’d do everything she could to help us. And she _did_. It took a few years, but her legislation passed, and we got government housing, _real_ housing, not a tent in the middle of a muddy field.” She took a moody sip of her drink. “So don’t tell me the political process doesn’t work.”

“Just because it worked for _you_ doesn’t meant it works for everyone. You had arguably the most powerful person in the New Republic, a hero of the Rebellion, in your corner. Most of us don’t. Most of us never will.”

Something about his words made Kaydel sulky. She carried her background as a refugee around with her like a secret wound, something she privately paid homage to, even if she’d been too young to remember the worst parts. Being told she was, in fact, incredibly privileged — that enraged her.

It also made her worry that he was correct.

“Oh yeah?” she needled him. “So what are you going to _do_ about it?”

“I told you,” Hux said calmly. “I’m going to build something new.”

“Yes, but _how_?”

His voice dropped low. “By tearing down the old.”

Kaydel let out a raucous laugh. Their argument was going in circles, and the drink was going to her head, especially on an empty stomach. “Sure, sure. Keep giving angry speeches on college campuses to people who can’t get laid and maybe one day you’ll have an army.”

“Maybe I already do,” Hux murmured into his glass.

Perhaps he said this to frighten her, but she didn’t believe him. “Really? So why are talking to _me_?”

“I believe the term is ‘opposition research.’”

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her. She snorted. “Okay. Then the least you can do is buy me another drink. And dinner.”

He did both.

The second drink made her solidly tipsy, but the dinner (something fried and delicious) tempered that a little. They bantered back and forth, mostly about politics. Hux never yielded in his viewpoint, but neither did Kaydel. By the end of dinner and the bottom of her second glass, she watched him with unabashed appreciation, too drunk to deny that she found the ginger hair, upper-class accent, and mysterious but intellectual background terribly sexy. In her mind, this was exactly how _things_ progressed: soon he’d ask for the bill, and she’d say she better walk him back to his hotel to make sure he didn’t get lost. Then he’d invite her up to his room for one final drink… beyond that, she got too nervous to think of very much.

She said something that elicited a small laugh from his overly serious visage, and she finally found the courage to slip her hand over his. The touch was electric, and he didn’t pull away. But his laughter quieted and his powerful gaze narrowed as he studied her.

“How old are you?” he asked abruptly.

“Nineteen,” Kaydel said. His eyebrows furrowed, and she knew it had been the wrong answer. “I mean, twenty. Twenty-one.”

Hux slid his hand away from hers, shaking his head. “This is folly, and it’s time we ended it.”

“Oh, come on,” Kaydel protested, “you can’t be _that_ much older than me.”

“Old enough,” Hux said briskly, flagging down the barmaid and laying down several bills on the table. He stood and pulled on his great black coat. “It’s been a lovely evening, but this is all the distraction I can afford.”

Kaydel got to her feet, pouting. Didn’t men like him enjoy taking advantage of girls like her? Why did she have to pick the most gentlemanly villain in the entire galaxy? Part of her wanted to behave boldly, determined to change his mind; but the rest — the part she knew was real — understood her limits. He was right: she was young and inexperienced, and anything else she tried would look desperate and crude. “ _Fine_. Good luck conquering the galaxy, then.”

Although he offered to walk her back to campus, those were the last words she spoke to him. She stormed out of the bar. On the street, the cold night air sobered her. She traipsed back to her dorm, furious with herself, and with him. She decided it was typical, that he had simply been stringing her along for some reason that she couldn’t see, and sleeping with him would have been a big mistake.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, or the night after, or the night after that. But soon, other distractions took her: papers, study sessions, finals, that handsome Omwati. Armitage Hux became an embarrassing distant memory, that time she’d tried to talk sense into a First Order fanatic.

It wasn’t until years later, when she’d already been knocked around by the galaxy, that she encountered him again. An officer in the Resistance, overseeing communications, she was one of the first to watch the broadcast of General Hux’s speech shortly before the destruction of the Hosnian system. She saw his face, the fervor in his eyes, and knew.

She’s never told anyone. How can she? What would her comrades say, even if she omitted the humiliating parts? He warned her. He knew exactly what he was doing, even then.

And she had wished him _luck._

This is her secret. She keeps it buried deep in her heart, locked inside a ribcage of iron. No one has suspected. She has decided no one can ever know, even now, as the Resistance has limped its way to victory.

One day she is bent over a communications array, tracking down rogue bits of chatter on various galactic frequencies, when her superior walks in. He’s leading in a stranger. The newcomer is injured, favoring one leg, an arm tenderly cradling his torso. Broken rib, most likely. He’s thin and gangly, clothed in grey prisoner’s garb. The copper hair droops into his eyes, and a beard covers his pale jaw. He’s so transformed she doesn’t recognize him until he looks her in the face, but even then there’s no flicker of understanding in his eyes. He’s forgotten her, and who can blame him? He nearly seized control of the galaxy since they last laid eyes on each other.

“Lieutenant Connix,” says her superior, “this is Armitage Hux, former general of the First Order. He’s been working for us for some time. We were able to extract him from the Star Destroyer fleet before it fell in the last battle. He’s being assigned to your unit, tracking down whatever First Order cells we haven’t yet eliminated.”

Kaydel stares at Hux, and doesn’t buy it. He would never betray the First Order, the cause he believes in so much that it blots out everything else in his sky. He’s playing them, the way he played her all those years ago. He has to be. Even as his eyes dart around the room, unfocused and dazed, she has the sense he’s putting on some great show, mimicking the humbled prisoner.

Rage boils in her belly. She wants to reach for her blaster, aim it at his chest and finish the job some unlucky fool must have started aboard the Star Destroyer fleet. Can the devil himself be killed? Kaydel doesn’t know, but she would love to find out.

Instead, she smiles, and slides down the bench so that there’s room for him to sit.

“Hi, Armitage,” she says, with the artificial cheer so often expected within the Resistance. “Welcome aboard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been mildly obsessed with Gingerbraids for months, ever since I saw the manips on [this tumblr](https://ginger-side.tumblr.com/). The fire was stoked by the lovely fic [De Profundis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872358/chapters/54667795). 
> 
> I've been suffering from writer's block on my current Reylo WIP, so I decided to dive into something completely different as an experiment. I figured I might as well expand the Gingerbraids literary canon while I was at it. xD I borrowed some of Kaydel's characterization from my other fic where she's a secondary player in the plot, but it's unlikely she'll ever meet Hux in that fic, so I fleshed that out even more here.
> 
> Let me know what you think! What do you like about this pairing? What else would you like to see? I thought about marking this as a one-shot, but I've already got an itching to continue, so... stick around, I guess. :)


	2. Dead and Cast Away

“General Dameron will be right with you,” says the secretary. “Why don’t you take a seat in the mean time?”

“Thanks,” Kaydel says. She looks around the cramped corridor for a place to sit. She chooses a stack of crates that has yet to be unpacked and perches on the edge, annoyed.

She has vivid memories — recent ones — of waltzing up to Poe at all hours of the day and night with intel to report or an idea to flesh out. These days, he has an office, albeit a makeshift one, and a _secretary_. She has to wait now to see him, like everyone else.

She supposes this is what happens when the leader of your organization dies: the most ambitious among you promote themselves into her place. It didn’t bother Kaydel at first. She thinks Poe Dameron is fantastic for the job; he has the skill and the charisma and the heart. It does sting a little, though. In the weeks since the battle that turned the tide for the Resistance, she feels herself getting more and more swept away by the current as others surge forward. As it is, some days she barely feels like she’s keeping her head above the water.

She sits with her hands on her knees, picking at fingernails with her thumb. Beneath her shirt, she can feel the sweat traveling uncomfortably down her back. The hallway is uncomfortably damp. This whole planet is: they were offered temporary space on Onderon, a jungle-covered mid-Rim world, as a temporary headquarters, before they would set up a more permanent base in the Core. The inner regions are still a mess from the war against the First Order. Massive cleanup operations have taken precedent to outfitting themselves in splendor. _As it should be_ , Kaydel thinks, but maybe they could have been offered a building with air conditioning.

She’s not nervous about talking to Poe. That she’s grown used to over the years they’ve known each other, even though she has never gotten past the jolt that happens whenever she first looks him in the eyes: he has such an intense gaze, bright and passionate and framed by long, dark lashes. He’s one of the most handsome men she’s ever met, and she is not afraid to admit this to herself. He’s also one of the smartest. When she first joined the New Republic army, she was surprised how little most people knew about the philosophies of what they were doing. Even in the Resistance, the language was very moral and simplistic in nature: fighting for what’s _right_ , ridding the galaxy of the First Order’s _evil_. Poe, on the other hand, knew every political philosopher from Xim the Despot to Chancellor Ralthamus Tirone of the Old Republic. They could — and did — debate theories for hours.

Or used to. Before Poe became the leader of the Resistance, and likely candidate to head whatever government they form in the future.

No, she’s not afraid to speak to Poe Dameron. She’s afraid of what she has to tell him.

A few minutes later, the door slides open. Poe slaps the back of a fussy-looking Bothan, his ears lowered close to his furry head, and laughs merrily. “Thank you for the time, Ambassador. I promise we’ll give your proposal the scrutiny it deserves and be in touch as soon as possible.”

Kaydel leaps to her feet and stands to attention as Poe and the Bothan shake hands. His guest departs and Poe smiles widely at her. “Lieutenant Connix. Come in, come in.”

He beckons her into his office, but due to the narrow corridor, she has to shimmy sideways to avoid brushing against the Bothan, who looks more affronted than before. He hurries off, and Kaydel and Poe exchanged a bemused glance.

“He seemed a bit touchy,” Kaydel says.

“That’s a massive understatement,” Poe replies. He ushers her inside and quickly hits the button to close the door. “Didn’t care much for me not bowing down and kissing his ass. The Bothans maintained neutrality when the New Republic needed them most, and now that they know the way the cosmic wind is blowing, they want to come in and declare for the winning side.” He sighs. “I wasn’t going to let that one slide so easily.”

Kaydel has a laundry list of opinions on the political strategy of the Bothans. She opens her mouth, but catches herself. “Permission to speak freely, General?”

Poe bursts out laughing. “Please, never call me that again. C’mon, Kaydel, how long have we known each other? I only pulled rank because Ambassador Mal’ani already seems to think we run a rinky dink operation as it is.”

She relaxes, relieved. “The history of leadership in Bothan space suggests they might have had toes dipped in First Order operations the whole time we’ve been fighting. And probably before.”

“Oh, I know. Remember Borsk Fey’lya?” Poe asks, although that was well before both of their times. “Nearly became President of the New Republic, but turned out he had dealings with old Imperial warlords? The Bothans would be great to have on our side, but I’m not sure we can trust them as far as we can throw them.” He shakes his head. “But enough about all that. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

He retreats to his desk, which is really just a repurposed table from the mess hall with a new coat of varnish. Despite the humble decor, he has the most impressive room in the complex: octagonal in shape, with white pillars and a wide circular window partially covered with vines. Poe sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms in concentration, and all the nerves Kaydel thought she wouldn’t feel come rushing in.

“I— I have a concern. A security concern,” she says, suddenly breathless.

“Oh?” Poe’s brows furrow. “Internal?”

“Yes.”

Poe frowns. This is a grievous allegation already. “What is it?”

Kaydel presses her lips together, and her fingers find her hair, twisted into elaborate braids piled atop her head. She did them this way this morning, in the Alderaanian knot, for luck. “It’s— well, it’s Hux.”

Poe’s shoulders slacken, and she worries she’s already lost. “Oh. That. That’s right, he’s been assigned to your unit, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” Kaydel says, moving closer, hoping that if he could just see the conviction with which she speaks, he’ll understand. “But I don’t think he can be trusted.”

Poe lets out a long sigh. “Kaydel—”

“A _general_ of the First Order, Poe? Really? You think he’s had some sort of revelation and switched loyalties, just like that?”

Poe shakes his head. “You don’t think I’ve been through this with the intel people? He fed us valuable information for _months_. It nearly got him killed. Not to mention the weeks he spent in detention, undergoing hour after hour of interrogation. He never cracked.”

“Come on,” Kaydel scoffs. “And you don’t think he’s undergone extensive training to withstand that sort of interrogation? He’s playing us, I’m certain of it.”

“Oh, really?” Poe asks lightly. “How do you know?”

Kaydel opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. _Because I almost slept with him in college_ is not an acceptable answer. Nor is that she’s been watching him on their shifts together, her eyes glued to him, and she’s convinced he’s acting _too_ well. Just the right amount of contrition; just the perfect blend of condescension and sycophantic behavior toward his captors. Something is off about him, like a hologram about to glitch.

She lowers her eyes and with them, her voice. “Do you really think someone like him can change?”

“I heard it worked for Darth Vader.” The implication hangs fraught in the air. “And Ben Solo.”

“Yeah, and they’re both dead,” Kaydel snaps.

“Allegedly.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She saw Rey after the last battle, limping back to camp, dirty and bloodied, her eyes overflowing with grief. Yet rumors still fly throughout the galaxy that he’s somehow survived — along with talk of Kylo Ren’s turn being a rouse, and Ben Solo being Kylo Ren’s twin, and all sorts of other conspiracy theories. Just this last week Kaydel fielded intel reports about supposed sightings of him on Ryloth, Iridonia, and Ord Mantell. In death, it seems as though the boy Jedi turned ruthless dictator looms larger than he ever did in life.

“It’s not important.” Poe slides off the desk and comes over to her. He places his hands on her shoulders and stares down at her. The heat of his palms bleed though the thin fabric of her shirt. “I was there when Hux got extracted, Kaydel. He saved our lives.”

“He— what?” She cannot reconcile this information with the persona she has built of him in her head.

“Turned on his own soldiers to protect us. That’s why we had to get him out of there. His cover was surely blown after that.” He looks away, and seems far away for a moment. “Finn wanted to go without him. Thought he’d get what he deserved. But I…”

“Couldn’t leave him.” Kaydel takes a deep breath to steady herself. Of course Poe wouldn’t want to leave someone putting himself at risk for the cause. If it had been his call to extract Hux, she knows she’ll never convince him that was the wrong decision.

“Would you?” Poe asks quietly, dropping his arms to his sides.

She’s not sure. “He killed— _so many people_. The Hosnian system—”

“And many more, no doubt. But is that where we want to start as a new society? Not with mercy, but with revenge?”

Kaydel turns away from him. Damn Poe Dameron and his inspirational words.

“Besides,” Poe says, “now that he’s here, you can keep an eye on him.”

She shoots him a glare. “Are you kidding?”

“Not in the slightest. You’re one of my best officers.” The power shift in their relationship is painfully evident in his words. He offers her an impish grin. “Why do you think he’s been assigned to work with you?”

She cannot tell if he’s improvising this on the spot or if this was the plan all along. “So you want me to spy on our spy?”

“ _Spy_ is such a harsh word.” Poe strolls over to his desk and takes a seat. “Think of it more as observing. Or monitoring, maybe.”

She can’t bring herself to tell him she’s already been watching Hux nonstop. Her eyes narrow. “And if I find proof he’s double-crossing us?”

“Oh, you bring that to me,” Poe says, his tone gone lethally serious. He folds his hands and places his chin on top. “And we’ll deal with our dear former general in a manner befitting a traitor.”

* * *

Kaydel slips into the archive room under the guise of looking up something related to her recent communications dispatches. She has high enough security clearance, so with that and a little finesse, she is able to gain access to Armitage Hux’s file, as well as the transcript of his interrogation. She copies both via data stick to her personal datapad, then sits alone at a table, trying to make sense of it all.

She reads the transcript first, and feels the weight of Hux’s own words leap from the screen and sear her corneas. Interrogations are circular by design, with the interrogator leading the detainee through a series of seemingly irrelevant topics, but always coming back to the salient points, often suddenly, in an attempt to catch the detainee in a lie. The details in Hux’s answers never shift, never stray from his original thesis, never appear too ingratiating. In fact, at times it seems like the opposite.

 _I don’t care if you win. I want Kylo Ren to lose_.

He repeats this several times, and each one scrapes against Kaydel’s nerves like sandpaper. A disdain for their cause is to be expected, but the reasoning? Could he truly be so petty? Betraying his entire cause for the downfall of one man?

If so, it means he’s already won. There would be no need to continue.

Kaydel lets out a grunt of frustration and presses her hands to her forehead. Her eyes ache from reading, and Hux has said nothing to incriminate himself. She turns off her datapad and stretches, her eyes falling on the line of computer consoles with dedicated holonet access. She drifts over, types a few keys, and finds the recording of Hux’s most famous speech, given moments before the Hosnian Cataclysm.

_Today is the end of the Republic – the end of a regime that acquiesces to disorder. At this very moment, in a system far from here, the New Republic lies to the galaxy while secretly supporting the treachery of the loathsome Resistance..._

And somewhere, in the back of her mind, echo the words of his younger self: _I’m going to build something new, by tearing down the old._

The utter dedication to something bigger and more terrible than him cannot be denied. Then only a year and some months later, the hard shift from the collective to the individual, no grand plans, no dreams. _I don’t care if you win. I want Kylo Ren to lose._

It doesn’t make any sense.

Kaydel leans close to the computer screen, where the holo-vid has paused on his face, his expression at once ruthless and ecstatic. _If the switch is real…_ The rest of her thought comes out in a tense whisper. “What happened to you between then and now?”

Hux’s specter does not reply, but her instincts do. _Nothing happened. He’s lying._

She grits her teeth, resisting the urge to strike the computer. “But — _why_?”

The image of the fallen general betrays no clues.

* * *

Her swirling thoughts accompany her to lunch. Kaydel sits in the mess hall with her head bowed over her datapad, eating a wilted sandwich. Hux’s personnel file is as opaque as the interrogation. Scant details hint at his background and upbringing — son of an old Imperial officer, top of his class at some military academy in the Outer Rim, considered gifted in the circles in which he ran. Something stirs within Kaydel, remnants of that night years before, half-remembered and poking at her psyche. A statement about feeling like an outcast, someone always on the outside looking in. What were the exact words? If she’d known how important they’d become, she would have written them down. Something about a lineage, or a legacy. She hadn’t understood then, and still doesn’t now. Armitage Hux seems perfectly suited for the role he played in the war, until the decision to leak intelligence to the Resistance.

She scrolls through the document, skimming the duller parts, her eyes glazing over. Then something catches her attention — the description of Hux after his extraction, during the weeks of detention. _Subject displays symptoms of drug withdrawal._

Kaydel’s heart beats faster. She presses her finger to the datapad screen, as if feeling the words could explain them. Drug withdrawal? _Hux_?

“There you are,” says a voice beside her.

Kaydel jumps, shoving the datapad under her food tray. It’s Rose Tico and Finn, each holding their own trays and exchanging puzzled looks.

“Hey, sorry,” Rose says, “we didn’t mean to startle you — I just thought we were gonna meet for lunch today, weren’t we?”

Kaydel forgot until this moment, but she nods. “Right, of course. _I’m_ sorry for flaking.” She offers a weak smile. “Too much work on my mind.”

They seem to accept this excuse without question. Rose sits to her left, Finn across from her, and they slip easily into banter and small talk. Kaydel wasn’t close with either of them until after the last battle — which everyone now refers to as the “end of the war,” although that categorization is debatable — and that’s only because Rey disappeared. Well, officially she’s on a leave of absence, as Poe calls it, which is kinder than Kaydel’s words for it: abandoning them when she’s most needed. Somehow the girl they’d called the Last Jedi had been able to sweep in and out of the Resistance, first because she possessed mystical Force powers, and then because she hadn’t been able to save Kylo Ren. Or Ben Solo. Or whatever Leia’s son had called himself at the end.

Kaydel doesn’t care about the specifics, just that the broad strokes with Rey are always the same: she’s somehow afforded privileges that would be against protocol for the rest of them. That Leia had personally taken Rey under her wing because of the Force stuff, when Kaydel spent her entire life toiling to emulate the former senator, stings even more now that Leia is gone.

In spite of this, she likes Rose and Finn in their own right. Rose can spin anything into a positive with the conviction to back it up, and Finn has a sharp humor to him that Kaydel appreciates. That he was also once a cog in the First Order machine gives him valuable insights that she wishes the Resistance would utilize more. “General” Finn experienced an unofficial demotion as the leadership structure cemented around Poe, something that Kaydel suspects still bothers him.

They talk for a few minutes, when Finn abruptly scowls. “Ugh, there he is.”

Armitage Hux steps in through the doorway at the other end of the mess hall, and the din quiets. He can still do that, even though he’s now in a brown jacket and trousers, the Resistance emblem on his sleeve like the rest of them. Even so, he looks out of place: he’s shaved the beard grown in detention, obtained product to slick back his hair again, and in his rigid stride Kaydel can see the posture of a military leader. Clothes don’t, in fact, make the man.

A round of heads swivel to him, but the soldiers’ attention these days is short, and the staring wanes. Hux strolls amid the tables, to the food-serving station, paying none of them any mind. Within minutes, he’s found a seat by a lichen-covered window, setting down a steaming cup of tea with his meal. He always eats alone.

“I don’t understand how no one has beaten the shit out of him yet,” Finn mutters.

Kaydel snickers. She knows she can at least count on Finn to share her reservations about their so-called prized mole.

Rose clicks her tongue at him. “C’mon, he’s on our side now. We should be nicer.”

“You’re the one who bit him!”

Kaydel’s mouth drops open as Rose ducks her head, reddening in the cheeks. “You _bit_ General Hux?”

“Hey, in my defense, he deserved it,” Rose insists. “You put your hand where it doesn’t belong, you get bit.”

“When was this?” Kaydel asks, horrified.

“Oh gosh, months and months ago. Before he had his change of heart. We’d infiltrated his command ship and gotten caught, and he was just being such a slime…” Her voice trails off as she glances to where Hux sits, poking his fork at a lackluster salad. “Do you think I should go over and apologize?”

“Definitely not,” Kaydel and Finn say in unison.

Rose raises her eyebrows. “Boy, tell me what you really think of him, would ya?”

“I was there,” Finn says. “He gloated about destroying your home star system.”

“Yeah, but he did give my necklace back. He didn’t have to do that.”

“That was seconds before he ordered our execution!”

As the bickering escalates between Rose and Finn, Kaydel’s gaze strays over to Hux. He has set aside the salad and sips the cup of tea, his own attention turned to the window. There’s little to see out there, aside from thick vines and misty rain.

“Hey, Finn,” she says, “do you know anything about Hux doing drugs?”

Finn and Rose’s argument screeches to a halt.

“Hux?” Rose demands. “Doing _drugs_? Why? Have you, you know, seen him—?”

“No, no, not at all,” Kaydel cuts in, feeling guilty for a reason she can’t explain, even though the evidence is listed plainly in his personnel file. Her security clearance is higher than both Rose and Finn’s, and she’s reluctant to share the reason for her inquiry. “I’m just curious. He’s always so— um, pale. He doesn’t look healthy.” Although that could be from years spent in space, or weeks spent in detention. “Finn, you served under him in the First Order, didn’t you? You must have heard some rumors.”

Finn has quieted, his expression turned serious. “I mean, there are always rumors. I think the one I remember most is that Hux never sleeps. You’d never know what shift he was working, and he could just appear behind you any moment, so you always had to be on your toes.”

 _Uppers, maybe?_ Stimpaks of all varieties could keep a person on his feet for days — appealing for someone as dedicated to his work as Hux. Except he _isn’t_ dedicated to his work anymore, according to him. Had the habit gotten the better of him? Could that account for the change in his behavior?

“You know, I have seen him wandering around the base at weird hours,” Rose offers. “But that doesn’t mean anything, right? He could have insomnia. I know I do sometimes.”

Kaydel frowns. She doesn’t know what any of it means.

“Of course,” Finn adds, “there was also the rumor that Hux killed his dad.”

“ _What_?” Both Kaydel and Rose stare at him.

“Right, here’s a good one,” Finn says, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You know who his dad was, don’t you?”

The personnel file listed a name, but nothing about him aside from his status as an old Imperial loyalist. Rose looks similarly perplexed. They shake their heads.

“Okay, so Brendol Hux was this big shot back in the days of the Empire. But he was apparently a little extreme even for them. So when the Empire collapsed, he went into hiding and did a bunch of creepy shit in secret, training child soldiers and such, waiting for the day the Empire would come back to power. Well, it never did, so he became one of the early architects of the First Order. His son was meant to be the heir to his cause, supposedly.”

A chilling story, but somehow not surprising. Kaydel has always known Hux seemed born and bred for his position. “I don’t get it. Why would Hux kill him?”

Finn smirks. “Well, according to the rumors, Hux is his _illegitimate_ son. So it was like a scandal or something, that he was even acknowledged by Brendol at all, let alone groomed for command. And their relationship was far from rosy. I heard they disagreed over how the First Order should be run and what its goals should be. So one day, Brendol Hux turns up dead, and it looks suspicious as hell.” Finn shrugs. “No one ever proved anything, but Brendol’s death sure did pave the way for Hux taking charge.”

Kaydel’s heart hammers in her chest. First an illicit drug addiction, now patricide? What exactly has she stepped into here?

“Does that really sound like someone who would throw everything away to help some lowly rebels?” she blurts.

“You mean, is he a double agent?” Finn’s dark eyes are alight with a fervent conviction. “Good question.”

Rose looks between Kaydel and Finn, the color drained from her cheeks. “Guys,” she says in a fierce whisper, “that’s not something we should be asking too loudly, you know?”

“Why not?” Finn asks, raising his chin defiantly, gaze locked with Kaydel’s. “What’s Poe going to do, court marshal us?”

The threat in his voice is evident, but Rose shakes her head so violently some hair falls loose around her face. “It’s not Poe I’m worried about. If Hux has no qualms about killing his own father, what’s a few ‘lowly rebels’ sticking their noses into his schemes?”

A tense silence descends on their table. Kaydel swallows hard and glances across the room. Somehow, in the course of their conversation, Hux has slipped unnoticed from the mess hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, here we go! The actual plot starts. How am I going to abide by the plot of a movie I thoroughly despised? Spoilers: I probably won't. Every time I think about having to engage with zombie Palpatine, my brain seizes up, so this story will likely be heavy on the "divergence" part of the "canon divergence" AU. But I really love Poe, Rose and Finn and think they all deserved far better character arcs, so they've come to lend a hand in this tale. 
> 
> Thanks to all the people who commented and gave me kudos encouraging the continuation of this tiny but mighty ship. Also thanks as always to Monocytogenes for the beta read and the Hux headcanons. It was her idea that Hux spent the dog days of the war abusing drugs to keep him afloat, an idea I have shamelessly stolen to explore in more depth here. 
> 
> Title references come from the song [Iron](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSkb0kDacjs) by Woodkid, which served as a major inspiration. Also I'm bad at titles.


	3. Where Innocence is Burned in Flames

Kaydel stares at the transcript of the communications dispatch, frustration simmering deep in her stomach. It was picked up two days ago on a channel known to be used by the First Order, and used awkward language that was certain to be code for something else, but she’s gotten nowhere with deciphering it. None of the keywords used were logged in their databases, and nothing about the message gave hints to current events or notable landmarks. Yet there’s something about it that gives her an urgent feeling, like something terrible is imminent.

“How’s it going, Connix?” Her new superior officer, Captain Volsh, has snuck up behind her. Unlike most Resistance members, Volsh has a disdain for the familiarity of calling subordinates by their first names. It reminds her of being back in the New Republic army. It’s not a fond recollection.

She’s draped over her workstation like a wilted plant. “Fine, sir,” she says, bolting upright. “Just fine.”

“Doesn’t look fine.” Volsh is a terse, blunt Sullustan, with dark eyes that always seem to be judging her —and finding her wanting. “How close are you to decryption?”

Kaydel struggles to tell him that she’s no closer than she was three hours ago, when he last did the rounds. Before she can find the words, he bends down and squints at her computer screen. “You run this by Hux yet?”

Inwardly, Kaydel cringes. “No, sir. I haven’t found the time—”

“The _time_? What are you supposed to do, divine the meaning out of thin air? We aren’t Jedi, Connix. What else is Hux here for?” He nods reproachfully at her. “Go talk to him, see if he can lend any insight.”

Her cheeks blazing, Kaydel shoves a data stick into the computer’s port, copying the dispatch’s file. _Go talk to him_. The very thing she’s been avoiding since he was assigned to work in her unit.

Which isn’t to say she hasn’t been watching him. Since the chat with Poe in his office, and the conversation with Finn and Rose, Kaydel has been logging Hux’s every move, on his shifts and off. She’s figured out which room in the barracks is his, and has been “casually” walking by most nights, to catch him on any clandestine evening strolls. So far, there’s been nothing out of the ordinary. He keeps to himself, which is unsurprising, given his overall unpopularity on the base. If he’s trying to feed a habit, there’s been no sign. If he’s trying to do something more nefarious… there’s been no sign of that, either.

But _talk_ to him? She’d rather sink into the ground and be buried alive.

Kaydel clutches the data stick in a clammy hand and approaches Hux in swift but halting steps. He’s been set up at a workstation across the airy glass-roofed atrium that has become home to the Resistance’s intel division. He’s in a tight corner, but there’s a narrow window adjacent to his desk, which makes Kaydel vaguely jealous, being positioned in the middle of the room, surrounded by dozens of pairs of prying eyes. His head is bowed as she approaches, a shaft of light from outside glowing on his copper hair. His fingers work the keyboard, long and nimble. _Focus_.

Kaydel hovers behind him, and after a few moments has the nerve to clear her throat.

He lifts his head, turns. Shrewd green eyes meet hers. Her heart pounds in her ears.

Hux arches one eyebrow, almost imperceptibly. “Lieutenant Connix, isn’t it? How may I help you?”

She’s terrified one of these days he’s going to recognize her, but he never seems to. And why should he? Seven years have passed, and who remembers a youthful indiscretion’s near miss? Except when the person you’ve almost been indiscrete with goes on to blow up a whole star system?

“I— um, er,” Kaydel says, cursing her clumsy tongue. She grits her teeth and tries again. “Volsh wanted me to show you this communications dispatch. I’m sure it’s a First Order code, but I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

There. She’s done it. She extends the data stick toward him, willing him to take it and let her retreat like a scurrying womprat.

Hux’s gaze shifts from her face to the data stick and back again. It seems to linger there for a moment too long. She feels herself start to sweat.

“Of course,” Hux says mildly. “Pull up a seat and let’s take a look.”

Panic snakes its way into her belly. “Oh, I mean, I can come back later. I thought you’d do it whenever you had a moment…”

“I’ve got a moment now.” Hux tilts his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Really, you’re saving me from an afternoon of boredom.”

_Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit._ “Great,” Kaydel says with forced cheer. She grabs a spare chair, letting herself scowl when she’s not facing him, her face pulsing with rage. How can she be so stupid?

Suddenly she’s sitting beside him, her shoulder nearly brushing his, trying to plug in the data stick into his computer without leaning too close to him. Her hands tremble as she fumbles with the port; she prays he doesn’t notice.

Once the data stick is hooked up, Hux draws closer to the screen, propping up his chin on one hand. His posture is still remarkably straight, at odds with her own hunching back, her shoulders squared and fingers clenched together in her lap. In profile, outlined by the window, he cuts a striking figure, his lashes as orange as his hair, the barest hint of stubble sprinkling his jaw. Kaydel struggles to keep her breathing even.

“Hmm,” Hux says, after a few intense minutes. “Well, it’s definitely a First Order call sign. The rest of it’s rather opaque, I’m afraid. This bit here,” he says, pointing to the screen, “that indicates a military operation, but the where and when are beyond me.”

His words shock her out of her discomfort. She straightens. “A military operation? You mean, an attack?”

“Almost certainly. The usual kind, I expect.”

Adrenaline pumps through Kaydel’s veins. _The First Order is planning an attack._ They had resorted to guerrilla tactics these days, striking soft targets — hospitals, schools, and other civilian locations, usually in regions with nominal affiliation with the Resistance, but remote enough to be unguarded by their stretched-thin troops. “But you can’t tell me where or when.”

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and they sound like an accusation. The implication hangs between them, unspoken. _Can’t, or won’t?_

Hux pauses, just slightly, before saying, “I’ve been gone for months now. They’ve clearly thought to change up their game, or else I’d be able to lead you right to the lot of them. They’re not that stupid, you know.” He speaks airily, without looking at her, which only feeds her suspicion.

“How can you be so casual about this? The First Order is planning to kill innocent people, and you’re just—”

He turns to her then, and the smile on his lips is so sad and pitying at once that the rest of her words die in her throat.

“Lieutenant Connix, it is quite touching that you’re so unspoiled by the horrors of war that this threat would move you,” Hux says softly. “For some of us, that time is long past.”

He might as well have sucker punched her. Kaydel sits back in her seat, reeling. He watches her with that same painful expression. The silence stretches. She remembers him, suddenly, that night all those years ago, his boyish face alight with the fervor of his convictions. This is something different, something she never expected. She’s seeing him now on the other side of his choices.

Kaydel opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. The only words she can think of are, maddeningly, _I’m sorry_ , when she knows it’s not her who should be apologizing. She doesn’t have the blood of billions on her hands.

So why does her chest hurt so much?

Before she can speak, he leans forward, brow furrowing. Hux stares at her intently, as if seeing her for the first time. “You know, you look quite familiar, and it’s been driving me mad trying to sort out why. By any chance, have we — met before?”

He asks it so innocently that she can’t stand it. “I have to go,” she cries, bolting to her feet.

She snatches the data stick from his computer and flees, leaving Hux’s bewildered face behind in her wake.

* * *

Kaydel spends the rest of her day furiously researching possible targets for the First Order attack. Since the last battle, they’ve been pushed to the Outer Rim, but that hardly narrows it down. The farther one gets from the Core, the more expansive the space available to them. The most notable attacks recently have been along the Perlemian Trade Route in the galactic north, but that doesn’t mean much either. Without more information, she might as well throw darts at the holo-map or track down Rey and demand she use the Force to predict the attack’s target.

When her shift ends, Kaydel leaves the atrium feeling irritable and exhausted. She makes sure when clocking out she won’t be leaving at the same time as Hux — she’s not sure she’ll be able to survive the humiliation if she has to deal with him again today. Deciding she’s had enough of people in general for one day, she grabs dinner to go from the mess hall and retreats to her room in the barracks.

Her room is small and utilitarian, but at least it’s her own. She’s spent too many years crammed into a bunk amid dozens of other Resistance members, all of her belongings shoved into one bag under the foot of her bag, for the many times they had to evacuate at a moment’s notice. The base on Onderon has more permanency to it, and she’s a high enough rank these days to warrant her own quarters. She has a double bed, a wardrobe, and a desk she’s positioned against the circular window. Her view is nothing but vines, but the latch opens, allowing her to flood the room with thick cool air once the sun goes down. Although it’s only twilight, she does so now, opening the stuffy room to a humid breeze and a cacophony of jungle sounds.

Kaydel eats dinner at her desk, sullenly and voraciously, for she realizes after the first bite how famished she is. Then she strips down to a tank top and pajama shorts, lets her hair down, and crawls into bed with a novel Poe lent her months ago. She reads the same paragraph multiple times, trying to focus on the words and not the way Hux looked at her today, and the dread simmering within her. Every minute that dispatch remained encoded afforded the First Order another minute to bring their plot to fruition.

The next thing she knows, she’s waking with the novel tented on her chest, her datapad vibrating where she’s left it across the room. She struggles to a sitting position, rubbing an eye groggily. It’s fully dark outside, two of Onderon’s moons hanging high in the sky. She stumbles to the desk and checks the time on her datapad screen. It’s nearly ten at night local time, meaning she’s been asleep for almost three hours. She’s been more tired than she realized, apparently.

The incessant vibrating is from a barrage of messages from Rose. Kaydel remembers it’s one of the days Rose works the night shift out in the shipyard, doing maintenance work on the starfighters constantly rotating in and out of the base. She’s gotten into the habit of texting during the more boring stretches of her shift. Kaydel yawns and flops back on the bed, datapad in hand, trying to wake up enough to read through the messages.

_Another night of broken X-Wing taillights. Kill me now._

_Great. Just found out both Billy AND Yana called out, too. I’m flying solo._

_Haha. Get it? Solo? Do you think Han Solo ever used that line?_

_… Hoo boy. I’m going to need you to entertain me big time tonight._

_You ARE there, right? I’m not just yapping into a void?_

Kaydel knows she should tap out a swift reply, before Rose has a chance to go stir crazy. _I’m here, don’t worry._

Rose’s response is almost instantaneous. _Thank goodness. I was starting to think I’d have to chat with the astromechs if I wanted any conversation._ A pause, and then: _How was YOUR day? Any news on YOU KNOW WHO???_

Rose is full of boundless zeal, but subtlety is not her forte. She’s been grilling Kaydel on Hux ever since that day in the mess hall. They’ve decided using his name in text conversations is too risky, but the resulting euphemisms aren’t exactly inconspicuous either. Though in truth, anyone spying would likely think they’re only talking about a silly crush — a realization that makes Kaydel’s face warm. Does she want to even tell Rose about what happened today? She debates, but in the end she feels strange keeping it from her entirely.

_I saw him today._ She hesitates, then plunges ahead: _I talked to him, actually._

_HOLY SHIT!!!!_ It’s probably her imagination, but Kaydel thinks she can hear Rose shouting from the shipyard. _What did he say? What did YOU say??_

_Not a lot. It was just about work._ Kaydel isn’t allowed to discuss classified information with people outside of her division, but she yearns to tell Rose more, about the imminent threat from the First Order and Hux’s inability — or refusal — to provide more information. _I’m worried he’s hiding something._

_Oh, I’m positive he’s hiding something. I’ve been keeping an eye out for him, too. Ran into him at commissary the other day. He bought dental floss and shaving cream ONLY. Who does that???_

Kaydel thinks of the light playing on Hux’s face, illuminating the stubble along his jaw. _Someone who prioritizes oral and facial hygiene?_ She’s hit Send before she can stop herself, and realizes in horror that sounds like she’s defending him.

_Come on, last time we were there together we bought three tubs of ice cream EACH. It’s not natural. Maybe he’s a vampire. That would explain why he’s so pale._ Rose becomes more fanciful late at night, Kaydel has noticed. She can’t even think of a good response. Luckily, Rose types on. _Plus I don’t think he remembers me. He turned around at the register and looked straight at me and his eyes were completely blank. Maybe people mentally block out the faces of those they’ve ordered executed???_

A strange, nervous feeling comes over Kaydel. Hux can’t remember meeting Rose a year ago, but today he recognized Kaydel from their night out together seven times longer than that? What could that mean? Maybe she left a stronger impression than she originally thought? Ugh, why does that idea sound so appealing?

Her datapad vibrates again, shaking her out of her thoughts. _STARS ABOVE, IT’S HIM_

_Wait, who?_ Kaydel types. Rose, ever the punctuation enthusiast, must be really shaken to forego even a full stop.

_HUX!!! I just saw him outside the maintenance shed!!!!_

_Are you sure? What the hell would he be doing there??_

_NO IDEA. But I swear it’s him. I told you I see him walking around at night sometimes, but I’ve never seen him do it when I was at work. Shit shit shit shit_

Kaydel stares at the datapad, a chill come over her. Rose has an active imagination, but Kaydel doesn’t think she’d invent a person wholesale just because they were talking about him. And what could Hux possibly want by visiting the shipyard late at night?

_Kaydel, get down here. Please? I don’t feel safe._

Her heart pounds faster. She’s half-dressed, her blond hair frizzing around her shoulders. She looks around the room, at her day clothes still scattered on the floor where she left them earlier. _Can’t you call security?_

_And look like a hysterical woman when I tell them I was alone in the dark and spooked because I thought I saw a big, scary man? That’ll go over like a lead balloon. Besides, what if he’s UP TO SOMETHING??? Maybe we can catch him in the act!!_

Kaydel lets out a sigh. _Be right there._

* * *

She pulls on her trousers and boots, then braids her hair quickly into one long plait, wrapping it into a bun and pinning it at the nape of her neck. No Alderaanian should be seen in public with unkempt hair, her mother always impressed upon her, and she’ll be damned if she lets Armitage Hux have the pleasure.

Kaydel pushes a stray wisp behind her ear and bolts for the door. She’s half-turned the knob when it occurs to her: should she be armed?

She’s never held a combat position, and most of her work these days is essentially a civilian endeavor, so she doesn’t have a service weapon. Neither does Hux — at least not officially. Though who knows what he’s picked up on his nighttime walks? And Rose’s best line of defense will be the biggest wrench she can find.

Kaydel storms over to her wardrobe, pulls open the sock drawer and pulls out a sheathed vibro-dagger: a present from Poe for her birthday because, in his words, she needed something to match her sharp wit. She tucks it into her boot and sprints.

Leaving the barracks, the night swallows her up. Onderon’s nocturnal sounds are a clash of insect calls, prowling beasts and carnivorous plants. Wandering the jungle by daylight is folly; by night it’s practically suicide. _So what’s Hux doing out here_? Kaydel can’t think of a good reason, or at least not a harmless one.

The shipyard is on the outskirts of the base, the one area without a fortified perimeter so as not to inhibit takeoffs and landings. As she approaches, the skeletons of X-Wings rise up above her like extinct behemoths. Goosebumps rise on her bare arms. _Don’t let your imagination run away with you._

The entrance to the maintenance shed glows with bright orange light. One humanoid silhouette stands guard there. As expected, Rose is holding a giant wrench like a shockball bat.

“I’m here,” Kaydel says breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Rose lets out a long sigh, lowering the wrench and smoothing the bangs framing her face. “Thanks for coming.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kaydel looks past her. The shed is deserted, nothing amiss. She looks over her shoulder, squinting into the inky blackness. “Where is he?”

Rose drops her voice to a whisper. “I’m not sure. Once he went behind the building he just kinda… disappeared.”

Kaydel squares her shoulders, raising her chin. “Nobody just _disappears._ ”

Rose eyes her, and nods once in determination. “Let’s go find him. When we do, we should _demand_ an explanation.”

Kaydel admires her tenacity, but they’re roughly of the same height and build, which is easily thirty centimeters shorter than Hux. “I’m not sure if that’s the best idea. Maybe stay quiet and hidden, and observe what he’s doing.”

“Right.” Rose nods. “That’s probably safer.”

Kaydel swallows hard. The jungle around them is thick and alive, and the wilderness portion of basic training was so long ago. “Okay. Just follow me. And try not to make any noise.”

They skirt the side of the maintenance shed and plunge into the foliage, where branches snap into their faces, brush crunches underfoot, and insects buzz in their ears. In the tall branches around them, the light from the moon barely filters through, and whenever Kaydel looks up, she thinks she can make out some sort of creature leaping from tree to tree.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Rose breathes behind her. “We should have brought a glow rod.”

“Did Hux have one?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then he’d see us way before we see him.” Kaydel takes a step, nearly trips over either an upturned root or a fallen log, and curses this foolhardy plan. But backtracking seems worse, an admission of defeat in a game she didn’t realize she’s been playing until now. Maybe Hux doesn’t know either, but she’s not about to let him have a win. “It will take a few minutes for our eyes to adjust, that’s all.”

“Sure.” After another few steps, Rose has walked right into her. “Oof, sorry! This is why they never send me on field missions, clearly.”

“It’s okay. Did you ever notice any kind of path back here?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t say I looked too hard, though. Nature walks aren’t really my thing.”

“How much do you wanna bet they’re not Hux’s, either?”

“ _That_ guy?” Rose snorts with mirth. “He looks like the kind of person who doesn’t like getting his boots dirty, if you know what I mean.”

Kaydel _does_ know what she means. Which makes this whole thing even more ludicrous. Whatever Armitage Hux is doing out here, she can’t believe it’s for his health. _Meeting a contact, maybe?_ But they were hundreds of kilometers from the nearest planetary city, and surely the Resistance’s radar would have picked up on any unauthorized ships landing in the area…

With the blackness growing more defined into shapes, Kaydel keeps her head down to keep from tripping again, putting one foot in front of another, occasionally slapping at bugs brushing against her arms. _I’ll have millions of bug bites tomorrow,_ she thinks ruefully. She’s about to make a quip about forgetting insect spray when a loud rustling catches her attention.

“Shit,” she hisses as a bipedal figure tromps toward them, brushing branches out of its way. “Hide, quick.”

Kaydel ducks behind a tree trunk; Rose leaps into a bush. The figure comes closer, marching with a firm, purposeful stride… and halts. It fumbles, then a small light comes on in its hand. Slowly, it approaches, waving the light around. Kaydel presses her face into the tree trunk and holds her breath. Suddenly, nothing in the jungle is so loud as the beating of her heart.

The figure does not seem to notice them. As it moves by her tree, she presses her hands against the trunk for leverage and peeks one eye around its girth. A head of copper hair glows in the weak light. Her heart stops entirely.

Suddenly, she pitches forward. The tree trunk was not as sturdy as she thought, and the bark falls away under her fingers, throwing her off balance. Letting out a choked cry, she falls to the ground where Hux’s boots have been a second ago.

She lies there like she’s been shot. She’s dead, or will be shortly. Hux whirls, shining the light from his datapad straight at her, eyes wide with fear. He blinks, once then twice, as if he can’t trust his vision. “ _Lieutenant Connix_?”

Kaydel rolls onto her back, thinking of the vibro-dagger in her boot. Instead of answering, she calculates how long it will take her to get it out and stab him in the leg, and whether she can do so before he can kill her.

Rose darts out of the brush, startling them both. “Kaydel, _there_ you are!” she exclaims, breathing heavily. She has one hand behind her back, where she’s hidden the wrench she brought with her. Looking at Hux, her eyes go comically wide. “Hux! I mean, Armitage! Hi! Funny meeting you here.” She laughs nervously. “Kaydel and I were just looking for my necklace. Clumsy me, I totally lost it out here earlier today.”

Hux seems at a loss as to what to do with them. Slowly, he lowers his datapad, which he’s been holding up in a defensive stance. “Oh. I see. My apologies, you startled me.”

He leans down and offers Kaydel a hand. Kaydel stares at it, wondering if dying would have been preferable to this.

His palm is warm and smooth, just like she remembers. A cool night wind blows as he pulls her to her feet, making her tremble. He lifts her with little effort – but then she does barely come to his shoulder. She stares up at him. His eyes look like dark green pools in the dim light.

He clears his throat and averts his eyes, and Kaydel remembers that in her haste to find Rose, she had left her room in only a tank top and trousers. She is certainly not wearing a bra.

Mortified, she turns away. Thankfully, Rose is a welcome distraction. She babbles on to Hux about searching for her lost necklace, which he nods to politely every few seconds, although the confusion on his face indicates he is probably only catching every third word.

“Of course,” he cuts in after a couple minutes. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve met, Miss…?”

“Tico. Rose Tico. And we’ve definitely met. You sentenced me to death.” She laughs nervously.

Hux shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall…”

_He’s probably ordered so many executions, they all blur together._ Kaydel bites back a wave of hysterical laughter.

“My necklace,” Rose continues, unabated. “I dropped my necklace and you gave it back to me. It’s one half of a circle, in the style of Hays Minor.”

Hux stares at her as if she is no longer speaking Basic. “The same necklace you’ve lost tonight?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Rose cries. “I knew you weren’t as evil as you were pretending to be, since you gave it back. I’m sorry I bit you, that was very uncouth of me.”

“Rose,” Kaydel interjects, because the stricken look on Hux’s face is too much to bear. “We should get back to looking for it. We didn’t mean to disturb your evening, Armitage.”

She grabs Rose by the elbow, below which her arm holding the wrench shakes ever so slightly. Kaydel starts to lead her away, but Hux darts in her path.

“You know, it would be foolish to keep searching for it by night,” he points out. “Why don’t you two come back and look in the morning?”

“Um,” Kaydel says, and can’t think of a reason.

“It’s not very safe out here at night,” Hux continues, in the same casual tone. “All sorts of critters about.”

“Then what are _you_ doing out here?” Rose squeaks, and Kaydel resists the urge to stomp on her foot.

Hux’s lips stretch into the thinnest of grins. “I admit to having a certain reckless disregard for my own wellbeing.”

There’s something about the way he says it, or how he looks at Kaydel when he says it, that sets her heart hammering again. Was that a tinge of sorrow in his voice? Or menace?

“It must be lonely for you here,” Kaydel blurts. “You’ve lost everything you fought for.”

He watches her with such an intense gaze she worries she might disintegrate under it. She grips Rose’s arm like a vise.

“Not everything,” he says, so softly she’s not sure she hears right. He brushes past them, holding up the datapad light to guide him. “Come now, follow me. We’ll be back to safety in no time.”

Kaydel and Rose exchange a glance, but have no choice but to follow. Thoughts whirl around in Kaydel’s head, making little sense. She can’t shake the mental image of Hux wandering around aimlessly in the dark, a broken man with a lost cause.

Hux leaves them in the brightly lit maintenance shed, bidding them a gentlemanly good night, and Rose finally removes the wrench from behind her back. She drops it onto a counter, the handle slick with sweat. “Well, that was something. For awhile there, I wasn’t sure if he was gonna kill us or I was gonna have to kill him first. Then I started feeling bad for him. Ugh.”

Kaydel feels similarly, but she doesn’t want to admit it out loud. “I guess if I was him, I’d do a lot of soul-searching by moonlight, too.”

Rose’s fingers stray to her neck, where she grasps the chain of her necklace and pulls out the pendant hidden under her shirt. She’s told Kaydel the story behind it, how her sister Paige used to wear the other half, before she was killed in a bombing run against the First Order.

“He really didn’t remember,” Rose says, closing her fist over the pendant. “I was on my knees in that Star Destroyer. He looked me right in the eyes and sentenced me to die, and he can’t even remember who I am.”

Rose looks up, her eyes shining with tears. Kaydel slides closer. Putting a hand on Rose’s shoulder, she struggles to think of something to say. “Power does weird things to people.”

What does it mean, when a condemned prisoner is not even a blip on his screen, but he seems to recognize a college girl from a night seven years ago? What does it mean, when someone like him loses everything, and he can only take solace in dangerous midnight walks?

_Not everything_ , he whispered, like a ghost.

Kaydel shivers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the abrupt hiatus. My decision to run a Star Wars RPG campaign set in the sequel trilogy has really eaten most of my fic mojo. But! The saga continues.


End file.
